a light returned
by coffeevixen84
Summary: Written before season 5 had started, this is just a reunion drabble set in my dreams where Beth makes it out on her own.


Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world.

Author's Note: This was written before any of season 5 had aired, back when I held onto such high hopes for my beloved Beth Greene and her story line. It's just a teensy lil' drabble of a reunion scene, set in my preferred delusion where Beth saved herself, and Maggie cared, and Daryl is allowed to have some nice things. I decided to go ahead and finally post it, because now that I somehow made it through the finale, I think I'm going to spend the hiatus daydreaming of alternate realities and pretending my heart isn't still broken. Thanks for reading.

!

It was Maggie who spotted her first, somehow sensing despite the sluggish limp that it was not some lone walker on the horizon. She recognized that all-too-rare flicker of life, even at a distance, and then caught a shade of blonde so achingly familiar her heart hurt with hope.

Yes, it was Maggie who did see her first, and even exhaled her name, a reverence-soaked plea of whisper and breath. But it was Daryl Dixon who took off running.

Bow clasped in hand, stride long and sure, he felt the echo of a distant night's desperation in every step - that horrible night when she was taken, when he clung to uncharacteristic hope and chased her long after the dawn.

Hunter's ears, sharp and attentive always, heard the instant Maggie and Glenn started after him. The loving sister and a fond brother-in-law, each eager and mystified, anxious to reach the blonde they all couldn't fully believe they were seeing. Daryl wasn't sure what he himself could be called, what relation he could claim, to explain why he was no less rushed, no less relieved than they were, even as his lungs began to burn from the sprint. But he didn't much care, not about titles or pain. Not when he could finally make out the recognition and joy brightening a long-missed face; not as he noticed the sheen of tears in wide blue eyes, shining like beacons before him.

Another moment passed, one that was simultaneously swift and slow, and he was little more than an arm's length away. His mind suddenly overpowered instinct and the physical pull to get to her, an indefinable panic slowing him abruptly as he wavered on the last few steps. He held up, letting Maggie pass him, as sobs and disbelieving laughter created a beautiful symphony of sisterly love. He watched mud-streaked arms wrap around too-thin torsos as they grabbed and grasped and clung to each other, before Glenn finally stepped in too and surrounded both women in another layer of embrace. Murmurs of surprise and happiness, mouths stretched wide with immeasurable affection, created an image of family far truer, far more real, than any Daryl himself had ever known, even at the prison. But he didn't feel the sting of envy or discomfort of un-belonging. His gratitude was too consuming.

Beth Greene was alive, was safe, was here.

Slowly, gently, the huddle before him unfolded. Glenn stepped back a bit, even if his grin didn't diminish in the slightest. Maggie remained close, gaze locked on the side of Beth's face as the blonde's eyes finally found his.

"Hey."

It truly might have been the most awkward word he'd ever uttered. Not quite hoarse or gruff, but certainly roughened by every mile and every moment that he'd been without her. Beth's answering smile was almost too sweet, and definitely too easy, as she crossed the space between them before he'd even shaken off his daze at the sight. When she slipped her slender arms around his waist, though, his response was immediate, cradling her frame against his, for at least a moment, without hesitation or fear.

A stillness Daryl had never experienced before came over him, and he felt a powerful calm spread like a blanket over every inch of his flesh and bone and Dixon pride. It softened the tension he'd held in his shoulders for as long as he could remember, eased that ready stance that left him permanently bracing for a fight. That relentless drive for survival, which had defined him long before the dead began to walk the earth, retreated to the furthest corner of his mind. He was supple, malleable, for the first time in his life, as he felt the imprint of Beth Greene sink into his skin.

But then, as if the warmth of her frame had flared suddenly and burnt him to his core, he broke the hold with a grunt and a large pace backwards, averting his eyes. A mumbled mess of consonants left his lips, vaguely apologetic even though he was unsure for which offense. When he managed to look back to Beth's face, though, she just shook her head slightly. He knew she believed he had no reason to be sorry.

Not for what happened to her that night, or on any other since (even if the bruises he now noticed, further darkening the grime on her forearms and peeking out from her collar, made his gut twist painfully with guilt).

Not for his inability to show the depth of what he was feeling at the mere sight of her (even as she bravely allowed so many emotions to cross her face, proudly displaying her elation and longing and hope for all to see).

Maggie moved to press Beth to her side again, and Daryl noticed tears were still falling. Glenn let out another laugh of incredulous glee, and while it was honestly too loud for this new and dangerous world, Daryl let it go without comment. Just this once.

Insisting they abandon the morning's scouting mission in favor of getting Beth back to camp, Maggie brushed the dampness from her cheeks before leading them back towards the woods. He felt the corner of his lips lift at Beth's appreciative gasps as her sister listed the names of those they'd found, of people he knew she loved and had missed. He watched her brighten, at this validation of her hope. Despite the grit and dust that covered her pale skin and ragged clothes, the lightness of her, that inexplicable glow he understood to be quintessentially _Beth_, was still visible somehow. And he was thankful.

Eventually, he'd want to know where Beth had been. Know who had taken her, and what had happened. He would want to know about the bruises, about the sharper cheekbones and shadows beneath her eyes. He caught her wincing in pain as she tried to increase her speed and realized he'd want to know, too, if this limp was due to a new injury, or if her ankle had never been allowed to heal in all their time apart.

But not right now.

He'd had so little cause for gratitude in his life, he was going to let himself just feel it for the moment.

Without a thought he stepped around Glenn to pick her up, scooping his arms under her knees just as he'd done weeks ago in the funeral home. She let out a squeal of surprise that ended more like a hint of a giggle, but he cut her off before she could comment.

"I know, I know. You were moving as fast as ya could. Wasn't fast enough."

Her smile softened in recognition, giving a slight squeeze where her hand rested around the back of his shoulder as she whispered so that only he could hear. "I missed you too, Daryl Dixon."


End file.
